


Kiss Me on the Orient Express

by twelveinone



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who & Related Fandoms
Genre: Canon Divergence, F/M, First Kiss, First Time, Plot, Smut, Some Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-10
Updated: 2017-10-12
Packaged: 2019-01-15 20:23:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,604
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12328218
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/twelveinone/pseuds/twelveinone
Summary: This story takes place on the Orient Express, but there is no mummy. Clara and the Doctor get locked inside a cupboard, and Clara finds some champagne. They exchange long, lustful glances and give in to temptations thinking this is the last chance they have with each other.Smut in Chapter 3





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had originally planned for this to be a short bit of smut but I've really enjoyed writing the adventure and feel like it's just getting started. Would people be interested in more chapters or will I leave it short and sweet?

“It’s not like I’m never going to see you again,” smiled Clara.

A pause.

“Isn’t it?” He stood opposite her in the narrow train corridor, eyes locked on her own.

“Is it??” Clara’s face dropped. She opened her mouth to speak again just as the train lurched dramatically to the side.

Clara and the Doctor were buffeted violently into first one wall and then, before they could steady themselves, the other. Clara slammed heavily against a door as the Doctor acted quick to break his fall against her. His hands crashed on either side of her head and she yelled.

The train stilled.

Hearts racing and chests heaving, they stood inches apart staring at each other, the only sound their ragged breath and the distant tinkle of alarmed voices.

The Doctor cleared his throat and pushed himself away from her but the force of his movement opened the door at Clara’s back and they cried out in shock as they toppled through it into a darkened room.

Dust settled and the Doctor groaned, rolling off Clara and onto his back where he lay rubbing his wrist. Clara exhaled and started to giggle. She pressed her thighs together to dull the ache in her groin from where he had kneed her accidentally as they had fallen.

“Sorry. Did I hurt you? Sorry.” The Doctor frowned over at her.

“Just be thankful I didn’t fall on you,” she giggled, which made him frown even more.

He heaved himself up, and the door closed shut without his outstretched legs to keep it open. They were now in total darkness.

“Well, we’ve stopped,” he said, and Clara could hear him rattling the door handle. It stayed shut. He tutted, and a few moments later a familiar whirring sounded as the sonic illuminated the small room they were in. Its light faltered and the whirring ceased when he pointed it to the keyhole.

“Interference field?” he muttered to himself. “Oh, sorry Clara,” he said through the darkness as he bumped into her and pressed up against her looking for a light switch. Clara stifled another giggle.

“Did you just squeak?” he asked her.

“No! You’re hearing things,” she replied.

“I don’t think so,” he said.

“Shush. You are.” She laughed, shoving him playfully.

“You’re very giddy this evening,” he said, eyebrows dancing as the light from the sonic lit up their faces.

He scanned the room and tipped the sonic into an empty jar on a small table beside them. It shone like a dim oil lamp.

“I’m just enjoying our little soirée!” she said brightly.

“I think you’ve been enjoying the champagne,” he said.

“That too.” She shifted under his gaze.

“So what do we do now, Doctor? Remove the floorboards and tunnel out? Take the door off its hinges?”

The Doctor shrugged and slid down the wall to sit in a corner.

“Wait until someone passes by. We’re in no rush.”

“Oh…” said Clara.

“You sound disappointed.”

“Well, not very exciting, sitting and waiting, is it?” she pouted.

“You just want more champagne,” he teased.

“Maybe,” she giggled again.

He nodded to a space above her head and she turned to look. Champagne bottles. This time she really did squeak. Seizing the neck of one in her small hands she twisted off the wire muselet covering the cork.

“How do you pop the it open?” She turned to the Doctor. He reached for the sonic and pointed it lazily at her. The bottle thonked and Clara let out a little shriek as the champagne frothed excitedly over her beaded dress.

“Bit of warning would be nice next time!” She placed her lips over the bubbles and sipped.

The liquid was sweet and sharp at the same time, and she smacked her mouth in satisfaction. Now it was the Doctor’s turn to chuckle. He shook his head slightly as she offered him a swig.

“More for me,” she said, knocking the bottle back and settling down in the far corner. She began to peel the foil off the neck in jittery strips. They curled in her lap like shavings of gold.

When she glanced up the Doctor was watching her intently.

“What’s that look?” he asked softly.

“Is this really the last time I’m going to see you?” she said.

“I thought that’s what you wanted.”

Clara shook her head, dumbfounded. “No, of course it isn’t. How could you think that?”

He shifted uncomfortably and opened his mouth as if to speak but the sound of footsteps approaching made him spring to his feet. He banged on the door.

“Hai, we’re stuck in here, can you open up please?” he shouted. The footsteps stopped outside.

“Doctor, is that you?” said the voice from the other side.

The Doctor and Clara peered at each other.

“Yes, who’s this? Can you please open the door?” The door unlocked and swung open, revealing Perkins.

“Not alone, Doctor?” he smirked. The Doctor reached out his hand and pulled Clara up. She still clung to the bottle as he hooshed her out into the corridor.

“You should learn how to pick locks,” said Perkins.

The Doctor pulled up short.

“Oh don’t tell me you already know how to pick locks…” Clara rolled her eyes.

“I don’t wanna talk about it,” the Doctor said abruptly, grabbing her shoulders to steer her down the corridor. Clara giggled, taking another sip of the champagne.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "But how will I say goodbye?"
> 
> A short entry.

“Hey, where are we going?”

“Back to the bar,” the Doctor said, hands still on Clara’s shoulders.

“I can’t, not with this!” She gestured at him with the bottle of champagne. He tugged it off her and continued to push her along with his hand at the small of her back.

“We’ll get you more, don’t worry,” he said, handing the bottle to an attendant as they reentered the room.

The train still wasn’t moving, but the jazz band had resumed their smooth music, and the tables that had overturned were now the right way up again. People seemed to be recovering from the sudden stop by guzzling back their drinks, and the crowd was getting rowdy.

The Doctor steered Clara over to a quiet table, skilfully nabbing two champagne flutes off a waiter’s tray as he went. He handed one to Clara and they dinked them together.

Clara felt a chorus of giggles threaten to escape her throat and she pressed her lips together to seal them in.

She was dignified, able to handle her bubbly. She was drunk. She leaned forward and planted a sloppy kiss on the Doctor’s cheek. He stepped back in fright.

“What was that for?” he cried, slapping his hand to the lipstick smear.

“Everything,” she tottered happily back to where she had stood and pursed her lips trying to reach her glass for another sip.

“Ladies, gentlemen, and all other variants in between and beyond,” boomed a voice, and the room quietened. “Our most heartfelt apologies once again for the incident. Signal fault up ahead, just a safety measure -” The crowd grumbled at this. “Yes, safety, better we stop now on our own than twenty minutes later headlong into another train!” The attendant bobbed impatiently on the balls of his feet, his moustache bristling. 

“Anyway," he continued, "drinks on us for tonight, and we’re here should you need us. Thank you.”

The band struck up a tune.

“You look disappointed again,” the Doctor breathed in to Clara’s ear.

“Bloody signal fault! That’s not exciting! No scary aliens from outer space, no murderous mystery on the rampage, just a signal fault!” she complained.

“What about me?”

“...What about you?”

“I’m a scary alien from outer space.” 

Clara laughed, a proper hearty laugh. “Not to me, you’re not,” she said.

The Doctor seemed displeased by this. He sipped his champagne and pulled a face, setting the glass down. With a twinge of guilt, Clara laid her hand on his arm.

“But to other people you’re very scary, Doctor. I’ve seen the way they look at you. Terrified, really.” Her sweet, round face with her large eyes blinking up at him in earnest made his mouth curl into the hint of a smile.

“If you say so, Clara Oswald,” he said, patting her hand. She curled her fingers through his and they stood gazing across the room, hands clasped together. Spotting distant planets out the window, he turned to recount her a tale of his time on them but drew back when he saw her face.

“Oh no, not the eyes again,” he said.

“You never answered me,” she said, her words thick in her champagne-soaked mouth. His eyes narrowed.

“What did you ask?”

“Is this really the last time I’ll see you?” A round tear rolled smoothly down her cheek. He wiped it instinctively away with his thumb, then sat down in the tasseled red chair behind him.

“I don’t know,” he said. “It will be if that’s what you want. If that’s what you think is right.”

“But how will I say goodbye?” Her voice was low, her eyes hooded. The Doctor interlaced his fingers in his lap and studied the folds of his knuckles.

Before he could react she had taken his face in her hands and was pressing her lips to his. Immobilised, he blinked rapidly then closed his own eyes and kissed her back.

Just as he tentatively stroked her hair she pulled away and stood before him, her eyes burning fiercely. Not knowing how to respond, he sat and waited for her next move.

She held out her hand.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What would they do if they had one night of final goodbyes on the Orient Express?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Smuttity smut, and a pinch of angst.

He cupped her small hand in both of his, gently rubbing her soft little fingers. She reached out and gripped his sleeve, giving him a tug but he remained in the chair.

“Where are you going?” he smiled softly. She made a shushing gesture, giggling, then swayed slightly. She tugged at him again.

“Come on, up with you,” she said in her best teacher voice. He stood and she felt a flush bloom across her cheeks as he looked down at her. This face really was handsome. He had both of her hands clasped together now, holding them close to his chest. Countless emotions were flickering across his face, his eyes deep and sad.

“Clara -”

“Can we go somewhere quieter and do this?” she asked, suddenly conscious of the swelling in her throat and the tears budding in the corners of her eyes. He nodded, and she led him through the crowd. The sounds of the revellers and the jazz band died down once they were through the door and back out in the narrow corridor. She spun around to face him, eyes blazing, but then shook her head and veered left, pressing her forehead onto a picture frame hanging just by them. The Doctor settled his shoulder against the wall beside her, waiting. After a moment she blindly reached out to him and he took her hand up to his lips, pressing them against her skin.

“I’m not good with goodbyes,” she grumbled. She barked a laugh and turned to look at him, but there were tears on her cheeks.

“No, Clara,” he said, hesitating before wiping them away. More tears streamed down to take their place and her lip trembled.

“Goodbyes are not really my style,” he joked, trying to make her smile, “I never know what to say...”

“Don’t say it, then,” she said, and gripped the lapels of his jacket, pulling him in towards her.

It was as if the train had jolted to a stop once more. His stomach flipped and he tilted forward, but just as before, he broke his fall with his hands either side of her. She gazed up at him dolefully, and it took his breath away. She was achingly beautiful, her eyes dark and smoky and only for him, smudged slightly by her tears. He wanted to pick her up, to press into her, enfold himself inside of her, but something held him back, as always. He kissed the top of her head.

“We don’t have to say goodbye tonight,” he murmured into her scented hair, “we still have tomorrow when I drop you home.”

“We don’t have any time left to say anything important, let alone goodbye,” she said.

He stood back and they looked at each other.

“Don’t say it then,” he said, and then, finally, he kissed her. His mouth met hers, open and inviting, and the touch of her silken tongue across his own lit a fire in his core. He felt her arms drape around his neck, and he kissed her like the taste of her lips was all he had ever longed for.

When they separated they were dishevelled, breathing heavily and painfully aware of a monumental shift in the ground beneath their feet. They had rearranged the universe around themselves, and with one look they both knew that tonight nothing would keep them apart. Wordlessly, he took her hand and led her down the corridor towards their rooms. When she stumbled tipsily just as they reached her door he scooped her up in his arms and kneed it open. She laughed in delight and nuzzled her mouth into his neck as he carried her over the threshold.

Once inside he laid her down on the narrow bed. She pulled on his cravat, unravelling it and bringing him back towards her lips. There was an urgency to the way she was now kissing him, as if she had waited only so long and was going to wait no longer. Her hands fumbled at the buttons of his shirt and his waistcoat, needily gripping the belt loops of his trousers and drawing him in closer to her. He slipped the heavily beaded strap of her dress down off her shoulders and trailed a sprinkle of kisses along her collarbones, pressing deeply into the soft hollow of her neck. She breathed his name and ran her fingers through his hair while his lips sucked on her skin.

Raising her hips she took his hand and guided him up her skirt. His long fingers slipped past her satin underwear and grazed along her damp slit. She moaned. He did it again just to hear her make those sounds. She was warm and soft in his hand, her legs falling apart at his touch. He grunted as she unbuckled his belt and cupped his hardness through his trousers.

There was only one thing in the entire universe, known and unknown, that mattered at that moment, and it was the the touch of their bodies against one another. The layers of clothes between them were slowly stripped away and they tangled together, tighter and tighter until there she lay beneath him, her pale naked body shining softly in the gloom. He kissed her rosebud nipples and his cock rested heavily against her. They locked eyes as she brought him to her, both of them shivering at their imminent joining. Sighs of relief escaped both of their lips as he slid slowly inside her.

They kissed, tenderly at first and then deeper and broader as they began to move in tandem. The pleasure of their union melded together, the satisfying ache of him inside her, her around him, growing and building until they became undone in each other's’ arms. Her high-pitched panting and his low moans filled the tiny room. They clung to one another at the crest of their fucking, calling out for one another, cumming for one another. After, he lay on her breasts with her legs wrapped around him.

“That’s one way to say goodbye,” Clara whispered, holding him close.


End file.
